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OUR  LADY'S 
TUMBLER   ^ 

A  TWELFTH 

CENTURY 

LEGEND 


Of  this  book  50  copies  have 
been  printed  on  Japan  vellum 
and  the  type  distributed. 

This  is  No.Q.^.. 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 

A     Twelfth     Century 

Leocend  done    out 

of    Old    French 

into     English 

by  Philip  H. 

Wicksteed 


Printed  for  Thomas  B.  Mosher,  and  pub- 
lished by  him  at  XL  V  Exchange  Street,  Portland, 
Maine.     MDCCCC. 


PREFACE 


m444(>6 


PREFACE 


HERE  or  when  this 
quaint  little  tale  first 
saw  the  light  is  not 
known.  One  of  a 
multitude  bequeathed 
to  us  by  medineval 
France,  it  was  done  into  English  in  1894 
by  the  Rev.  Philip  H.  Wicksteed  whose 
translation  we  here  reprint  entire.'  Diffi- 
cult as  it  is  to  convey  the  charm  of  so 
slight  a  thing  we  cannot  but  feel  that  Mr. 
Wicksteed  has  successfully  turned  into 
Nineteenth  Century  speech  the  simple  Old 
World  diction  of  this  diminutive  story. 

It    cannot  of  course   compare   with  the 
passionate  utterances  of  the  cajite-fable  we 


I  Our  Lady's  Tumbler.  A  Twelfth  Century 
Legend  Transcribed  for  Lady  Day.  mdcccxciv. 
[By  P.  H.  Wicksteed.]  Sq.  i6mo.  with  Frontis- 
piece and  2  illustrations  by  H.  Granville  Fell. 
Pp.  42.     (London,  1894.) 


Origin 
of  the 
legend 
un- 
known. 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


Com- 
pared 
with 

Aucassm 
and 
Nicolete. 


know  as  Aucassi?i  and  Nicolete.  There  is 
no  touch  that  cleaves  the  thin  faint  air  of 
dawn,  no  episode  at  all  comparable  with 
the  famous  speech  of  that  old  lover  of 
Provence  who  declared  that  he  would 
rather  fare  forth  to  Hades  with  the  woman 
he  loved  than  remain  separated  from  her 
in  the  company  of  the  saints  in  Heaven. 
On  the  contrary  it  has  no  hint  of  love 
at  all  unless  we  consider  the  minstrel's 
rapturous  adoration  of  the  Mother  of  God 
a  substitute  for  the  vision  of  an  Earthly 
Paradise  vouchsafed  Aucassin  should  he 
succeed  in  winning  Nicolete. 

This  lack  of  human  passion,  however,  is 
made  up  by  the  spiritual  fervor  of  the  poor 
mirth-maker  who  after  all  was  perhaps 
nearer  and  dearer  to  the  Middle  Age  heart 
than  the  more  celebrated  old-time  lovers. 
At  all  events  it  is  a  legend  well  worth 
telling,  and  we  present  it  to  our  readers 
believing  that  they  will  feel  with  us  its 
archaic  refinement.  One  can  but  think 
of   the    many    argosies    of   rhyme    sunken 


PREFACE 


out  of  sight  forevermore,  while  this  brief 
chronicle  has  endured  from  a  period  at 
least  coincident  with  the  composition  of 
The  Canterbury  7 ales. 


IX 

Its 

probable 

date. 


OUR    LADY'S    TUMBLER 


Note  :  —  The  text  of  this  Legend, 
in  French  of  the  end  of  the  Twelfth 
Century,  was  published  by  Foerster 
in  the  "Romania,"  Vol.  II.,  1872, 
from  a  MS.  in  the  Arsenal.  Noth- 
ing is  known  of  its  origin.  Grober 
published  the  variants  of  two  other 
MSS.  in  the  "  Zeitschrift  flir  Roman- 
ische  Philologie"  for  1880.  The 
Transcriber  has  occasionally  availed 
himself  of  these  alternative  read- 
ings. The  Legend  is  written  in 
lines  of  eight  syllables,  rhymed  in 
couplets. 

p.    H.    WICKSTEED. 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


N  the  lives  of  the 
ancient  fathers, 
where  is  store  of 
goodly  matter,  is 
told  a  certain  tale. 
Now  I  will  not  say- 
that  others  full  as  fair  may  not  be 
heard  —  ay!  many  a  one  —  but  I 
say  that  this  is  not  to  be  so  scorned 
but  it  is  worth  narrating.  I  will 
therefore  tell  you  and  relate  of 
what  befell  a  certain  minstrel. 

He  wandered  so  far  to  and  fro, 
over  so  many  a  plot  and  place,  that 
he  grew  a-weary  of  the  world  and 
gave  himself  up  to  a  Holy  Order. 
Horses  and  robes  and  money,  and 
whatsoever  he  had  he  straight  sur- 


IVhat 
befell 
the  miti- 
strel. 


How  he 
entered 
c  Holy 
■  Uraer. 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 

rendered  to  it,  and  clean  dismissed 
himself  from  the  world,  resolved 
never  again  to  set  teeth  in  it. 
Wherefore  he  entered  that  Holy 
Order — as  folk  say — in  Clairvaux. 
And  when  this  dancer  had  given 
himself  to  it,  albeit  he  was  well 
adorned  and  beauteous,  comely  and 
well  made,  he  knew  no  trade  that 
he  could  ply  therein.  For  all  his 
life  he  had  spent  in  tumbling  and 
leaping  and  dancing.  How  to  trip 
and  spring  he  understood,  but 
naught  beside,  for  he  had  conned 
no  other  lesson  —  nor  pater  noster, 
nor  chant,  nor  credo,  nor  ave,  nor 
auQ[ht  that  miorht  make  for  his 
salvation. 


When  he  had  entered  the  Order, 
he  saw  those  folk  high-shorn  con- 
verse by  signs,  while  no  sound 
passed  their  lips ;  and  he  supposed 
for    sure    that    they    could    speak 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


no  otlierwise.  But  presently  he 
learned  the  truth,  and  knew  that 
for  penance  they  were  forbidden  to 
speak,  therefore  somewhiles  they 
were  silent ;  whereat  it  came  into 
his  mind  that  he  too  ouo^ht  often 
to  keep  his  silence ;  and  he  held 
his  peace  so  meekly  and  so  long, 
he  had  not  spoken  all  the  day  had 
they  not  bidden  him  to  do  it ; 
whereat  there  was  no  little  laugh- 
ter many  a  time.  The  man  was 
all  abashed  amongst  them,  for  he 
knew  not  to  do  or  say  aught  with 
which  they  were  busied  there,  and 
he  was  sore  grieved  and  sad  thereat. 
He  beheld  the  monks  and  the  con- 
verts, as  each  one  served  God  here 
and  there  according  to  such  office 
as  he  held.  He  saw  the  priests  at 
the  altars,  for  such  was  their  duty, 
the  deacons  at  the  gospels,  the 
sub-deacons  at  the  visrils,  while 
the    acolytes   stood   ready    for    the 


But 

knew  not 
their 
ways. 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


How 
each 
serves 
God. 


epistles,  in  due  time.  One  recites 
verses,  and  another  a  lesson,  and 
the  choristers  are  at  the  psalters, 
and  the  converts  at  the  misereres 
—  for  so  they  order  their  lament- 
ings  —  and  even  the  simplest  at 
pater  nosters.  Through  offices 
and  cloisters  he  gazes  everywhere, 
up  and  down,  and  sees  in  remote 
recesses  here  five,  here  three,  here 
two,  here  one.  He  looks  fixedly,  if 
he  may,  at  every  one.  The  one 
has  to  lament,  the  other  weep,  a 
third  to  groan  and  sigh.  Much  he 
wonders  what  ails  them.  "  Holy 
Mary!"  he  says,  "what  ails  these 
folk  that  they  bear  them  thus  and 
show  such  grief.?  Methinks  they 
are  perturbed  indeed,  that  they  all 
make  such  lamentations."  Then 
he  added,  "  Holy  Mary  !  —  ah  !  woe 
is  me,  what  have  I  said  !  I  trow 
they  are  praying  God  for  mercy. 
But,   O  wretched  me !  what  am   I 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


5 


doine?  For  there  is  none  here  so 
caitiff  but  who  vies  with  all  the 
rest  in  serving  God  after  his  trade ; 
but  I  had  no  business  here,  for  I 
know  not  what  to  do  or  say.  A 
very  wretch  was  I  when  I  gave 
myself  to  the  Order,  for  I  know  nor 
prayer,  nor  aught  that  is  good.  I 
see  them  —  one  before  and  another 
behind  —  while  I  only  walk  with 
nose  in  air  and  consume  victuals 
for  nothing.  If  I  am  found  out  in 
this  I  shall  foully  fall,  for  they  will 
thrust  me  out  to  the  dogs.  And 
here  am  I,  a  strong  villain,  doing 
naught  but  eat.  Verily  I  am 
wretched  in  a  high  degree."  Then 
in  despite  he  wept  for  woe,  and 
for  his  part  would  he  were  dead. 
"  Holy  Mary,  mother! "  he  said,  "  do 
pray  your  Sovereign  Father  that 
he  hold  me  in  his  pleasure,  and 
send  me  his  good  counsel,  that  I 
may  have  power  to  serve  him  and 


But  he 
has  no 

office. 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


He  finds 
an  altar 
in  the 
crypt. 


you,  and  may  earn  the  victuals 
that  I  take :  for  I  know  well  that  I 
misreceive  them." 

Thus  maddened  with  grief  he 
went  his  way,  till,  searching  through 
the  monastery,  he  came  upon  a 
crypt,  and  crouched  down  by  an 
altar,  pressing  up  as  close  to  it  as 
might  be.  Above  the  altar  was  the 
form  of  my  lady,  the  Holy  Mary. 
He  had  not  lost  his  way  when  he 
came  to  that  place!  No,  verily,  for 
God,  who  well  knows  how  to  call  his 
own  to  him,  led  him  there.  When 
he  heard  them  sound  for  Mass  he 
leapt  up,  all  dismayed.  "Ah  !  "  he 
cried,  "  how  am  I  betrayed  !  Now 
each  one  will  say  his  stave,  and 
here  am  I  like  a  tethered  ox,  doing 
naught  but  browse,  and  spoiling 
victuals  for  no  good. —  Shall  I  say 
it .?  Shall  I  do  it .?  By  the  mother 
of   God   I  will !      I   shall   ne'er  be 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


blamed  for  it,  if  I  do  what  I  have 
learned,  and  serve  the  mother  of 
God  in  her  monastery  according  to 
my  trade.  The  rest  serve  in  chant- 
ing, and  I  will  serve  in  tumbling." 

He  removes  his  cloak  and  strips 
himself,  and  lays  his  clothes  beside 
the  altar;  but,  that  his  flesh  be  not 
all  naked,  he  keeps  on  an  under- 
coat, right  fine  and  thin,  scarce 
more  than  a  shift.  Then  he  stood, 
just  in  his  body,  well  girt  and 
adorned.  He  girds  his  coat  and 
takes  his  stand,  turns  towards  the 
image  right  humbly,  and  looks 
upon  it.  "  Lady,"  says  he,  "  to  your 
protection  I  commend  my  body  and 
my  soul.  Sweet  queen,  sweet  lady, 
despise  not  what  I  know:  for  I 
would  fain  essay  to  serve  you  in 
good  faith,  if  God  aid  me,  without 
guile.  I  can  nor  chant,  nor  read  to 
you ;  but,  certes,  I  would  pick  for 


He 

offers 
such 
service 
as  he 
knows. 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


How  he 

leaps 

before 

Our 

Lady. 


you  a  choice  of  all  my  finest  feats. 
Now,  may  I  be  like  the  bull-calf 
that  leaps  and  bounds  before  his 
mother.  Lady,  who  art  no  whit 
bitter  to  such  as  serve  you  truly, 
whatsoever  I  am,  may  it  be  for 
you."  Then  he  began  his  leaps 
before  her,  low  and  small,  great 
and  high,  first  under  and  then  over. 
Then  he  threw  himself  on  his 
knees  again  before  the  image,  and 
saluted  it.  "Ah!"  he  says,  "all- 
sweet  Queen !  of  your  pity  and  of 
your  frankness,  despise  not  my 
service."  Then  he  tumbled  and 
leapt,  and  made,  in  festal  guise,  the 
vault  of  Metz  around  his  head. 
He  saluted  the  image  and  adored 
it,  and  honoured  it  with  all  his 
might.  Then  he  did  the  French 
vault  and  then  the  vault  of  Cham- 
pagne, and  then  he  did  the  Spanish 
vault  and  then  the  vaults  they  do 
in  Brittany,  and  then  the  vault  of 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


Lorraine,  and  strained  himself  to 
do  the  best  of  all  his  power.  Then 
he  did  the  Roman  vault,  and  put 
his  hand  before  his  brow  and 
danced  so  featly,  as  he  gazed  right 
humbly  at  the  image  of  the  Mother 
of  God.  "  Lady,"  he  said,  "  this  is 
a  choice  performance.  I  do  it  for 
no  other  but  for  you ;  so  aid  me 
God,  I  do  not  —  for  you  and  for 
your  son !  And  this  I  dare  avouch 
and  boast,  that  for  me  it  is  no  play- 
work.  But  I  am  serving  you,  and 
that  pays  me.  The  others  serve, 
and  so  do  I.  Lady,  despise  not 
your  slave,  for  I  serve  you  for  your 
disport.  Lady,  you  are  the  mou-joie 
that  kindles  all  the  world."  Then 
he  tumbled  with  his  feet  up  in  the 
air,  walked  and  went  on  his  two 
hands  that  he  might  journey  closer 
to  the  ground.  He  twists  with 
his  feet  and  weeps  with  his  eyes. 
"  Lady,"  he  says,  "  I  adore  you  with 


0/  the 
divers 
vaults 
he  7nade. 


lO 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


He  will 
serve 
Our 
Lady 
as  her 
Tum- 
bler. 


heart  and  body,  feet  and  hands,  for 
I  can  nor  more  nor  less.  Hence- 
forth I  will  ever  be  your  minstrel. 
They  shall  sing  in  there  together, 
and  I  will  come  here  to  entertain 
you.  Lady,  you  can  guide  me. 
For  God's  sake  do  not  despise 
me."  Then  he  beat  his  breast  in 
penitence,  he  sighed  and  wept 
right  tenderly,  for  he  knew  not 
how  else  to  pray.  Then  he  turned 
back  and  made  a  leap.  "  Lady," 
he  said,  "so  save  me  God,  I  ne'er 
did  that  before !  This  does  not 
rank  among  inferior  feats,  and 
is  all  new.  Lady !  what  fill  of 
joyance  should  he  have  who  might 
abide  with  you  in  your  glorious 
manor.  For  God's  sake.  Lady, 
receive  me  therein,  for  I  am  yours, 
and  no  whit  my  own."  Then  he 
did  the  vault  of  Metz  again,  and 
tumbled  and  danced  right  there. 
And  when  he  heard  them  raise  the 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


1 1 


chants  he  laid  too  in  right  good 
earnest,  and  as  long  as  the  Mass 
lasted  his  body  did  not  cease  to 
dance  and  trip  and  leap,  till  he 
waxed  so  faint  he  might  no  longer 
stand  upon  his  feet,  but  fell  upon 
the  ground  and  dropped  for  very 
weariness.  And  as  blood  drips 
from  the  spit  so  the  sweat  started 
from  him,  head  to  foot,  from  end  to 
end.  "  Lady,"  he  said,  "  I  can  do 
no  more  now  ;  but,  indeed,  I'll  come 
aeain."  With  heat  he  seemed  all 
burning.  He  puts  on  his  vest- 
ments again,  and  when  he  is  clothed 
salutes  the  image  and  goes  his  way. 
"  Adieu,"  he  says,  "  sweetest  friend. 
For  God's  sake  be  not  cast  down, 
for  if  I  can  I  will  come  again.  At 
every  hour'  I  would  serve  you  the 
very  best  that  may  be,  if  it  please 
you,  and  if  I  can."     Then  he  went 


He 

salutes 
Our 
Lady 
and  goes 
his  way. 


1  I.e.,   the    canonical    hours    of    matins,    nones, 
vespers  and  compline.     So  throughout  the  story. 


12 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


But 
returfis 
at  every 
hour. 


away,  still  looking  at  the  image. 
"  Lady,"  he  said,  "  what  pity  that  I 
know  not  all  those  psalters  !  Right 
gladly  would  I  say  them  for  love  of 
you,  most  sweet  Lady.  To  you  I 
commend  my  body  and  my  soul." 


This  life  he  led  long  time,  for  at 
every  hour  thenceforth  he  went  to 
render  his  service  and  his  homage 
before  the  image ;  for  he  took  mar- 
vellous delight  therein,  and  did  it 
with  a  right  good-will,  so  that  no 
day  was  ever  so  weary  but  what  he 
did  his  best  therein  to  entertain 
the  Mother  of  God ;  and  never  did 
he  desire  other  sport.  Now  they 
knew,  of  course,  that  he  went  every 
day  into  the  crypt,  but  no  man  on 
earth  knew,  save  God,  what  it  was 
that  he  did  there,  nor  would  he,  for 
all  the  wealth  the  world  possesses, 
have  had  any  know  his  doings  save 
only  the  Lord  God  alone.     For  he 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


13 


well  believed  that  so  soon  as  they 
should  know  they  would  chase  him 
out  and  force  him  into  the  world 
again,  which  is  all  seething  with 
sins,  and  he  would  liefer  die  than 
ever  be  bitten  again  by  sin.  But 
God,  who  knew  his  meaning,  and 
how  great  was  his  compunction, 
and  the  love  that  made  him  do  it, 
would  not  have  his  deed  concealed. 
Rather  did  the  Sire  will  and  decree 
that  the  doings  of  his  friend  should 
be  known  and  manifested,  for  his 
Mother's  sake,  whom  he  had  feted, 
and  that  all  should  know  and 
understand  and  perceive  that  God 
rejects  no  one  who  comes  to  him 
in  love,  of  whatsoever  trade  he  be, 
if  only  he  love  God  and  do  right. 


Service 
without 
Love  is 
naught. 


Now,  do  you  suppose  that  God 
would  have  prized  his  service  had 
he  not  loved }  Not  a  whit,  how- 
ever  much    he    tumbled !      But   it 


14 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


He  is 
blatned 
for  fiot 
attend- 
ing 
matins. 


was  his  love  that  he  prized.  Do 
penance  and  toil  all  you  may,  keep 
fast  and  vigil  all  you  may,  weep  all 
you  may  and  sigh,  groan  and  pray, 
and  give  yourself  to  discipline,  and 
go  to  Mass  and  matin,  and  give  all 
you  have,  and  pay  all  you  owe  :  yet, 
if  you  love  not  God  with  all  your 
heart,  all  these  good  things  are 
thrown  away  —  be  well  assured  — 
and  avail  you  naught  at  all  for 
salvation ;  for  without  love  and 
without  pity  all  labour  counts  for 
nothing.  God  asks  not  gold  nor 
silver,  but  only  true  love  in  folks' 
hearts.  And  this  man  loved  God 
unfeigningly,  and  that  was  why 
God  prized  his  service. 


So  went  it  with  the  good  man 
long  space.  I  cannot  number  you 
the  years  that  the  good  man  was 
thus  at  ease ;  but  the  time  came 
when  he  was  very  ill  at  ease:  for  a 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 

monk  took  note  of  him,  and  blamed 
him  much  in  his  heart  for  that  he 
came  not  to  matins.  He  wondered 
what  became  of  him,  and  said  that 
he  would  never  stop  till  he  knew 
what  sort  of  man  this  was,  and  for 
what  he  was  worth,  and  how  he 
earned  his  bread.'  The  monk 
observed  and  tracked  and  spied 
him  out  until  he  plainly  saw  him 
plying  his  trade  without  disguise,  as 
I  have  told  you.  "  In  faith,"  said  he, 
"  here  is  fine  sport !  and  methinks 
greater  doins^s  than  all  the  rest  of 
ours  put  together!  There  are  the 
others  at  their  orisons,  and  toiling 
for  the  houses,  while  he  is  dancing 
as  proudly  as  if  he  had  a  hundred 
marks  of  silver.  He  does  his  busi- 
ness in  good  style,  and  verily  he 
pays  us  all  he  owes.     It  is  a  goodly 


15 


'  I.e.,  what  (spiritual)  service  he  was  rendering 
to  the  corporation  in  return  for  the  bread  he  ate. 
So  throughout. 


A  monk 
seeing 
his 
tumb- 
ling. 


i6 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


And 
counts 
it  with- 
out 
guile. 


way  of  doing  it  —  for  us  to  chant 
for  him  and  him  to  tumble  for  us ! 
We  pay  for  him  and  he  for  us. 
If  we  do  weep,  he  gives  us  quits. 
Would  all  the  Convent  could  see 
him  as  I  do  —  if  I  had  to  fast  till 
nightfall  for  it !  Not  a  soul,  I  trow, 
could  keep  from  laughing  if  they 
saw  the  fury  with  which  this  wretch 
goes  killing  himself,  as  he  throws 
himself  into  his  tumblinor  and  srives 
himself  no  mercy.  May  God  count 
it  for  penance  !  for  he  does  it  with- 
out guile.  And,  for  my  part,  in 
sooth,  I  think  no  ill  of  it;  for  I  take 
it  he  does  according  to  his  lights 
and  in  good  faith,  because  he  would 
not  fain  be  idle."  This  the  monk 
saw  with  his  eyes  at  all  the  hours 
of  the  day,  as  he  worked  and  rested 
not.  Much  did  he  laugh  and  much 
rejoice,  and  felt  delight  and  pity. 


He  went  to  the  Abbot  and  told 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


17 


him.  From  end  to  end  he  related 
it  just  as  you  have  heard.  Where- 
on the  Abbot  rose  to  his  feet  and 
said  to  the  monk  :  "  Now  hold  your 
peace,  and  do  not  scandalise  him ; 
I  bid  you,  on  the  vows  of  your 
Order.  And  observe  my  command 
to  speak  of  it  to  no  one,  save  to  me. 
And  we  will  go  and  see  it  this 
day.  We  will  find  out  what  it 
may  mean.  And  we  will  pray  the 
Celestial  King  and  his  most  sweet 
dear  Mother,  who  is  so  precious 
and  bright,  to  beg,  in  her  sweetness, 
her  Son,  her  Father,  her  Lord,  to 
let  me  see  this  thing  to-day,  if  it  be 
his  pleasure  ;  that  God  be  the  more 
loved  thereby  and  the  good  man 
be  not  blamed,  if  it  likewise  please 
him."  Then  they  went  all  quietly 
and  hid  themselves  without  more 
adieu  hard  by  the  altar  in  a  nook 
where  he  could  not  see  them.  The 
Abbot  and  the  monk  witnessed  all 


And 
tells  the 
Abbot. 


i8 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


How  the 
Queen  of 
Heaven 
tends 
him. 


the  convert's  office,  and  all  the 
divers  vaults  he  made,  and  his 
leaping  and  dancing  and  saluting 
the  image,  and  tripping  and  bound- 
ing, until  he  came  to  faint.  He 
worked  himself  into  such  weariness 
that  he  needs  must  fall,  and  down 
he  sat  all  worn  out.  The  sweat  all 
over  him,  for  very  toil,  dropped 
down  upon  the  floor  of  the  crypt. 
But  in  short  time,  in  little  space, 
his  sweet  Lady  succours  him,  her 
whom  he  serves  without  deceit. 
Well  knew  she  how  to  come  at 
need ! 


The  Abbot  looked  and  straight- 
way saw  a  Dame  so  glorious 
descend  from  the  vault  that  none 
e'er  saw  one  so  precious  and  so 
richly  arrayed,  nor  was  one  so 
beauteous  e'er  born.  Her  gar- 
ments were  very  costly  with  gold 
and    precious    stones.       With    her 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


19 


and    solaced 

When    they 

him    all    his 

Then   they 


were  the  angels  from  heaven  above, 
and  the  archangels,  who  came 
around  the  minstrel 
and  sustained  him. 
were  ranged  around 
heart  was  assuaged, 
pressed  to  serve  him,  because  they 
longed  to  repay  the  service  that  he 
did  their  Lady,  who  is  so  precious  a 
gem.  And  the  sweet  frank  Queen 
held  a  white  napkin,  and  fanned 
her  minstrel  with  it  right  sweetly 
before  the  altar.  The  Dame,  frank 
and  meek,  fans  his  neck  and  body 
and  face  to  cool  him.  Well  does 
she  undertake  to  aid  him.  The 
Dame  abandons  herself  to  the  task. 


The  good  man  does  not  turn  a 
glance  to  her,  for  he  sees  her  not, 
nor  knows  a  whit  that  he  has  such 
fair  company. 


And  the 
angels 
do  him 
honour. 


The  holy  angels    do   him   great 
honour,  albeit  they  remain  no  long- 


22 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


The 

Abbot 
calls  the 
Tum- 
bler. 


And  so  the  time  came  and  went 
until  a  little  afterwards  it  came  to 
pass  that  the  Abbot  sent  for  the 
man  that  had  so  much  good  in 
him.  When  he  heard  that  he  was 
sent  for  and  that  the  Abbot  was 
asking  for  him,  his  heart  was  so  full 
of  sorrow  that  he  knew  not  what 
he  should  say.  "  Ah  me!"  he  cried, 
"I  am  accused.  Never  shall  I  be 
a  day  without  misery  and  toil  and 
shame,  for  my  service  comes  to 
naught.  It  is  not  pleasing  to  God, 
as  I  take  it.  Ah  me!  nay,  rather, 
it  displeases  him:  for  the  truth  of 
it  has  come  to  light.  Did  I  sup- 
pose that  such  a  deed  as  mine  and 
that  such  sport  were  fit  to  please 
the  Lord  God  ?  Not  a  whit.  They 
pleased  him  not  at  all.  Ah  me!  I 
ne'er  did  any  good.  Alas,  what 
shall  I  do,  what  shall  I  say }  Fair, 
sweetest  God,  what  will  become  of 
me }     Now    shall    I    be    slain    and 


shamed,  now  shall  I  be  banished 
from  hence,  now  shall  I  become  a 
target  out  there  in  the  world  with 
all  its  evil.  Sweet  Lady,  holy- 
Mary,  how  far  astray  was  that  idea 
of  mine !  And  I  know  not  whom 
to  take  to  counsel.  Lady,  come 
you  to  guide  me.  Nay,  sweetest 
God,  do  but  succour  me!  Do  not 
delay  nor  linger.  And  do  bring 
your  Mother  with  you.  For  God's 
sake  come  not  without  her.  Come 
both  of  you  to  help  me,  for  I  know 
not  what  to  plead.  They  will 
say  straightway,  at  the  first  word, 
*  Be  off  with  you  ! '  Oh  me !  what 
answer  can  I  make  when  I  have 
not  a  word  to  say  ?  What  does  it 
matter,  for  I  shall  have  to  go." 
Weeping,  so  that  his  face  was  wet, 
he  came  before  the  Abbot ;  weep- 
ing, he  knelt  before  him.  "Sire," 
he  cried,  "for  the  mercy  of  God, 
will  you  chase  me  out  from  here  ? 


Of  the 
Tum- 
bler's 
fears. 


22 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


The 
Abbot 
calls  the 
Tum- 
bler. 


And  SO  the  time  came  and  went 
until  a  little  afterwards  it  came  to 
pass  that  the  Abbot  sent  for  the 
man  that  had  so  much  good  in 
him.  When  he  heard  that  he  was 
sent  for  and  that  the  Abbot  was 
asking  for  him,  his  heart  was  so  full 
of  sorrow  that  he  knew  not  what 
he  should  say.  "  Ah  me ! "  he  cried, 
"  I  am  accused.  Never  shall  I  be 
a  day  without  misery  and  toil  and 
shame,  for  my  service  comes  to 
naught.  It  is  not  pleasing  to  God, 
as  I  take  it.  Ah  me!  nay,  rather, 
it  displeases  him:  for  the  truth  of 
it  has  come  to  light.  Did  I  sup- 
pose that  such  a  deed  as  mine  and 
that  such  sport  were  fit  to  please 
the  Lord  God }  Not  a  whit.  They 
pleased  him  not  at  all.  Ah  me!  I 
ne'er  did  any  good.  Alas,  what 
shall  I  do,  what  shall  I  say .?  Fair, 
sweetest  God,  what  will  become  of 
me  ?     Now   shall    I    be    slain    and 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


23 


shamed,  now  shall  I  be  banished 
from  hence,  now  shall  I  become  a 
target  out  there  in  the  world  with 
all  its  evil.  Sweet  Lady,  holy 
Mary,  how  far  astray  was  that  idea 
of  mine !  And  I  know  not  whom 
to  take  to  counsel.  Lady,  come 
you  to  guide  me.  Nay,  sweetest 
God,  do  but  succour  me!  Do  not 
delay  nor  linger.  And  do  bring 
your  Mother  with  you.  For  God's 
sake  come  not  without  her.  Come 
both  of  you  to  help  me,  for  I  know 
not  what  to  plead.  They  will 
say  straightway,  at  the  first  word, 
*  Be  off  with  you  ! '  Oh  me !  what 
answer  can  I  make  when  I  have 
not  a  word  to  say  ?  What  does  it 
matter,  for  I  shall  have  to  go." 
Weeping,  so  that  his  face  was  wet, 
he  came  before  the  Abbot ;  weep- 
ing, he  knelt  before  him.  "Sire," 
he  cried,  "for  the  mercy  of  God, 
will  you  chase  me  out  from  here  ? 


Of  the 
Tum- 
bler's 
fears. 


24 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


The 

Abbot 

will 

know 

his 

trade. 


Say  what  you  command.  I  will  do 
all  your  will."  The  Abbot  said : 
"  I  will  to  know,  and  will  that  you 
should  tell  me  true  —  you  have  been 
long  time  here,  winter  and  summer 
—  I  will  to  know  what  is  your 
worth,  and  how  you  earn  your 
bread."  "Alas!"  said  he,  "I  knew 
it  well,  that  I  should  be  sent  upon 
my  way  soon  as  my  doings  should 
be  known ;  that  they  would  have 
no  more  to  do  with  me.  Sire,"  he 
said,  "  I  go  my  way.  Wretched  I 
am  and  wretched  I  shall  be,  and 
I  never  made  a  farthing's  worth  of 
any  goods."  The  Abbot  answered  : 
"  Far  am  I  from  saying  that,  but  I 
require  and  demand,  and  moreover 
I  command  you  in  virtue  of  obedi- 
ence, that  you  tell  me  all  you  know, 
and  at  what  trade  you  serve  us  in 
our  monastery."  "Sire!"  he  said, 
"  how  have  you  slain  me  !  How  this 
command  kills  me !  "     Then  he  tells 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


25 


him,  with  whatever  grief,  all  his 
doings,  from  end  to  end,  so  that  he 
did  not  leave  a  word  to  say  but 
told  it  all  at  a  breath,  just  as  I  have 
related  it.  And  now  he  has  told 
it  all  and  narrated  it  to  him  with 
clasped  hands,  weeping,  kissing  his 
feet  and  sighing. 


He  tells 
the 

Abbot 
all. 


The  holy  Abbot  turned  to  him, 
and,  weeping,  raised  him  up,  and 
kissed  both  his  two  eyes.  "  Broth- 
er," said  he,  "  now  hold  thy  peace, 
for  I  accord,  in  very  truth,  that  you 
shall  be  of  our  convent.  God  grant 
that  we  may  be  of  yours  ;  in  guer- 
don of  service  done  in  our  own.  I 
and  you  will  be  good  friends.  Fair, 
sweet  brother,  pray  for  me,  and  I 
will  pray  again  for  you.  And  I  pray 
you,  my  sweet  friend,  and  command 
you  without  feigning,  that  you  do 
this  service  frankly,  even  as  you 
have  done  it  —  ay,  and  yet  better  if 


26 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


How  a 

grievous 

sickness 

came 

upon 

him. 


you  have  the  skill."  "Sire,"  said 
he,  "is  this  in  verity?"  "Yes," 
said  the  Abbot,  "  'tis  in  verity." 
He  charged  him,  on  pain  of  pen- 
ance, to  doubt  it  no  more ;  whereat 
the  good  man  was  so  overjoyed,  as 
says  the  ditty,  that  he  scarce  knew 
what  had  become  of  him,  and  he 
must  needs  sit  him  down,  and  he 
turned  all  pale.  When  his  heart 
came  back  to  him  his  bosom  leapt 
with  joy,  so  sore  that  an  ill  assailed 
him,  whereof  in  right  short  space 
he  died.  But  very  meekly  he  did 
his  service  without  repose,  morning 
and  evening,  night  and  day,  never 
missing  an  hour  until  he  was  smit- 
ten sick  ;  and  so  great  was  the  ill 
that  held  him  that  he  could  not 
stir  from  his  bed.  Then  it  was 
Q:rievous  shame  to  him  that  he 
might  not  pay  his  dues  ;  and  there- 
for chiefly  was  he  troubled,  for  he 
complained  not  a  whit  of    his    ill, 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


27 


save  that  he  stood  in  sore  doubt  of 
losing  his  penance,  in  that  he  toiled 
not  at  that  toil  that  was  his  wont. 
It  seemed  him  he  was  all  too  sloth- 
ful ;  and  since  slothful  he  must  be 
henceforth,  the  good  man  prayed 
to  God  to  receive  him  e'er  he  were 
undone  by  sloth.  For  he  felt  such 
utter  grief  about  this  matter,  where- 
of some  knew,  that  his  heart  might 
not  endure  it;  yet  needs  must  he 
lie  and  could  not  stir.  The  holy 
Abbot  honours  him  much ;  he  and 
his  monk  at  every  hour  come  to 
chant  at  his  couch.  And  he  took 
such  great  delight  in  what  they 
sang  to  him  of  God  that  he  would 
not  have  had  Poitou  in  lieu  of  it, 
but  would  have  given  all  in  quit- 
tance, such  joy  had  he  in  hearing. 
Well  did  he  confess  and  repent ; 
yet  withal  was  he  in  doubt.  What 
need  of  more  ?  At  the  last  it 
behoved   him   meet   his   end. 


How 
they 

chant  to 
him  of 
God. 


28 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


And 
the 

Mother 
of  God 
receives 
his  soul. 


The  Abbot  was  there  and  all  his 
monks,  many  a  priest  and  many  a 
canon,  who  gazed  at  him  right 
humbly,  and  saw  all  openly  a  mira- 
cle most  marvellous.  For  they  all 
saw  with  their  eyes  that  at  his  end 
were  the  angels  present,  and  the 
Mother  of  God  and  the  archangels, 
ranged  all  around  him.  And  on 
the  other  side  were  the  furious 
ones,  the  enemies  and  the  devils, 
to  have  his  soul — it  is  no  fable! 
But  in  vain  had  they  waited,  and 
hastened  and  strained  so  far,  for 
they  shall  have  no  part  in  his  soul. 
Albeit  his  soul  departs  from  his 
body  it  falls  not  at  all,  for  the 
Mother  of  God  has  received  it. 
And  the  angels  who  are  there  sine 
for  joy  and  go  their  way,  and  carry 
him  to  heaven,  as  was  decreed. 
And  this  all  the  convent  saw,  and 
all  the  rest  who  were  there.  Now 
they  all  knew  and  were  aware  that 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


29 


recognise 


God  would  no  longer  hide  his  love 
of  his  bachelor,  but  rather  would 
that    each    and    all    should    know 

the  good  in  him. 
great  marvel  had 
Hi2:h  honour  did 
they  render  to  his  body,  which  they 
bore  into  their  monastery,  render- 
ing high  service  to  God.  Nor  was 
there  one  but  chanted  or  read  in 
the  choir  of  the  great  church. 


and 

Great   joy    and 

they    thereat. 


The 
Abbot 
tells  the 
tale. 


With  right  great  honour  do  they 
bury  him,  and  look  upon  him  as 
a  holy  corse.  And  then  without 
disguise  the  Abbot  told  them  all 
the  tale  of  him  and  of  his  way  of 
life  even  as  you  have  heard  it,  and 
of  all  that  he  saw  in  the  crypt.  The 
convent  listened  gladly.  "  Verily," 
they  said,  "  we  must  needs  believe 
it,  and  none  should  misbelieve  you, 
for  the  truth  bears  witness.  It  is 
well  proved  at  need ;  nor  is  there 


30 


OUR  LADY'S  TUMBLER 


May  we 
all  have 
God's 

love. 


place  for  doubt  that  he  has  made 
his  penance."  Great  joy  had  they 
amongst  themselves  thereat. 

Thus  ends  The  Minstrel.  In 
happy  hour  he  tumbled ;  in  happy 
hour  he  served;  for  thereby  he  won 
high  honour  such  that  none  may 
compare  therewith.  This  is  what 
the  holy  fathers  relate  concerning 
what  befel  this  minstrel.  Now 
pray  we  to  God,  who  has  no  like, 
that  he  grant  us  so  to  serve  him 
that  we  may  earn  his  love. 


HERE  ENDS  OUR  LADY'S  TUM- 
BLER. A  TWELFTH  CENTURY 
LEGEND  DONE  OUT  OF  OLD 
FRENCH  INTO  ENGLISH  BY 
PHILIP  H.  WICKSTEED.  PRINT- 
ED BY  SMITH  &  SALE  FOR 
THOMAS  B.  MOSHER,  AND  PUB- 
LISHED BY  HIM  AT  XLV  EX- 
CHANGE STREET,  PORTLAND, 
MAINE,    MDCCCC. 


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.      lllllla?54Mr 

IViA;':-^l954LU? 
FEB     2  1957  IS 

RECEivr* 

FEB27o7.i2AI\| 

LOAN  DEPT. 


LD  21-lOOm-l, '54(1887816)476 


M444G6 


0, 


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